sometimes
by iwillseduceyouwithmyweirdness
Summary: even though Sherlock is back, John still visits his grave. Sherlock finds out and isn't happy.


Sherlock Holmes is alive. We all know that. Our reunion wasn't the friendliest, but we are back to normal now. Well, as normal as it can get with him around.

Even though I know this, sometimes, I still visit his grave. Not to mourn. Just to clear my head a bit. It still serves this purpose for me although I don't tell Sherlock, he would just mutter something about sentiment and move on. I go there to tell him when he is being annoying; when I have PTS dreams or after a case that reminds me too much of the war (like one of our first cases back together again with the bomb); or just to tell him feelings that I don't feel comfortable saying to his face (I have realised that I am in love with him). All round, I like it.

I had gone to his grave that day. I needed space. Sherlock was driving me crazy as usual and the case we were working on was very war orientated (bombs and soldiers). I wasn't coping. Once I had finally cleared my head I made my way home.

The flat was very quiet. An unhealthy silence hung in the air and seemed to smother me. Something was wrong.

I made my way upstairs as fast as I could. When I entered the flat I saw Sherlock stood in the middle of the apartment looking extremely distressed. 'Sherlock, are you ok?' I asked.

'I- I don't know…' He seemed confused. The great Sherlock Holmes confused? That never happened.

'What's wrong?' I asked again.

'Mycroft has just been over and informed me that you still visit my grave. He told me why. I just thought that after all we've been through that you would be able to tell me things like when a case is affecting you.' He looked so disappointed in me. _Bloody Mycroft._ I thought.

Sherlock's usually warm blue eyes had turned cold and distant. I knew what was coming. He flew out of the living room and into his room, making sure that he slammed the door as hard as he could on the way. 'Sherlock' I knew that it was in vain but I could still try and talk him round.

I waited about an hour for Sherlock to come out of his room; he usually did, even if it was accompanied with icy stares at least he was where I could keep an eye on him. Today was different. He didn't come out of his room. I began to worry so I decided to make sure he was ok. Before I made any attempt to enter his room, I made tea. I would need a bribe to make him allow me in.

Tentatively, I knocked on his door. 'GO AWAY!' Was the reply that I was given. It didn't bode well.

'I have tea.' I called back, knowing that the temptation of this hot beverage would make him open up. The door opened just enough for a long, pale, hand to extend, take the tea, and disappear again. _Oh God! This is worse than I had anticipated._ 'Sherlock...' I tried again. 'Can I please come in?' it was worth a shot.

'NO!' Was the immediate and rather harsh answer. He really could be stubborn sometimes.

'Please?' I begged. There was no reply. _Maybe I could just sneak in?_ _Would that betray his trust?_ I was conflicted. I needed to talk to him, and sooner rather than later. This was my only option.

I opened the door and stepped inside. All of the curtains were drawn even though it was the middle of the day, the light was off, and Sherlock had made himself a blanket fort to hide in.

'I said _no!_' Sherlock spat as he heard me shut the door.

'Can I please just explain?' I pleaded. This was going to be far harder than I had expected.

'No. It seemed pretty clear to me that you just go down there to bitch about me behind my back and hide your feelings from me.'

'You really are an idiot sometimes.' I said.

'Yeah, insult me that will make me want to talk to you!' Sherlock bit back.

'Listen,' I said in the calmest voice that I could muster, 'I never meant for you to feel hurt by this. It's just that I didn't think that you would want to hear about my sentiments.'

'John, of course I want to hear about your feelings.' There was a subtle softness back in his voice when he spoke. I was so relived. I couldn't bear hurting my best friend.

'Good.' I said. _What else was there to say?_

'John.' Sherlock sounded far too curious for my liking. 'Umm… well… Mycroft also said something else about why you go there… he said that you tell the grave about your suppressed feelings… for me…' _Oh God! What should I say? Should I even say anything?_ I could feel myself blushing.

Sherlock walked over to me and kissed me. His lips were surprisingly soft. Especially for someone who takes such little care of themselves. 'I love you John.' His voice was like heaven.

'I love too, Sherlock.' I whispered back.

**Sort about the ending, I didn't know where I was heading with this… Please review! I hope you liked it!**


End file.
